


That’s My Girl

by fiestar



Category: K-pop, TWICE (Band)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Porn Watching, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29217969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiestar/pseuds/fiestar
Relationships: Yoo Jeongyeon/Reader
Kudos: 4





	That’s My Girl

The first time you encounter the most cliched combination words it in the harsh throws of your adolescence, a time when dodging hormonal boys that popped boners at the slightest thought of the female physique was just as important as slathering on too much glittery lipgloss to entice them into kissing you. In hindsight, had your first kiss been the awkward clash of chapped lips that most all middle school kisses are you wouldn’t have stayed connected for very long, with all the lipgloss you wore the guy would’ve probably slipped right off in a cascade of glitter and artificial strawberry flavoring. The first, as most are, was the worst instance. There was no preamble or forewarning. There was nothing then next there was something. Not a lot of something to speak of seeing as no one was past that awkward, I’m half grown into my body stage, but it was still something. And you hadn’t asked for it. 

Back then your phone was strong enough to survive a frightened toss across your bedroom. It had even managed to leave a little divot in your wall without taking a scratch. Lipgloss and charms for your brick of a phone was all that you thought of, if your memory serves. But the first time served as an eye opener. It made you realize what your hypnotic and copious amounts of too bright eyeshadow and too sweet lipgloss could cause. After quickly taping a poster of some up and coming band that you probably only pretended to like because it was mainstream and all the cool kids were into them to cover up the fact that your phone could doubly as a weapon you ran to your bathroom and wiped your face clean off all the makeup that was so cheap it had probably attributed to the bulk of your pubescent acne. Just like in the movies, you stared yourself in the eyes and cried until your tears ran clear and your face no longer had traces of the cheapest drugstore products your meager allowance could buy at the time. 

The second time you’re confronted by the words you’d been anticipating their arrival with anxious hitches in your breath every time your computer binged with a new instant message. You’d spent too much time redrafting the same words over and over like the umpteenth time your eyes scan over them they’d suddenly have a new, more philosophical meaning. Of course, that didn’t work and you ended up deleting the chat and blocking their handle even though you knew the consequences of your hasty attempt at covering yet another one of your mistakes would come back to haunt you when you got back to school after the weekend. You can distinctly remember the elaborate plan you’d cooked up in your head on Sunday night, fully planning on enacting it as a way to get out of school. But when your mom came to knock on your door to wake you that Monday you rolled out of bed obediently and bemoaned the math test you were destined to fail in second period. You hadn’t failed, actually, but your intuition about the consequences of deleting the chat before your parents read it was spot on. The boy had stomped up to you at lunch while you were standing in line for food, hiding between two of your taller friends and grabbed a handful of your skirt. In the moment it had felt like everyone had seen your pink panties with the cute little clouds on them, but in actuality only a handful of people had. And no one talked. But you’d definitely spent the bulk of your afternoon crying in the shower instead of doing your homework. 

By the time you read them a third time you were well past the unflattering days of middle school and puberty. Your skin cleared and your body filled out just as your mom always said it would and those two things culminated into an irresistible aura constantly being projected onto everyone around you. Being a natural girl–as in one of the few girls in your grade that didn’t wear makeup and wasn’t a social pariah–made you better suited to be a target of ant and all possible suitors. At first it was only the guys, and the ones coined as the “losers” or “nerds”, no less. All of them seemed to have somehow lost their way on the stroll down puberty lane and took a wrong turn that landed them in a state that made them look like middle schoolers forever. Besides their faces marked with the years of scars from picking at their skin, all of them somehow were shorter than you. You rejected one after the other until you were somehow a top tier bachelorette. You hadn’t realized that the guys started to get higher in rank on the social scale until the most cliché thing happened. 

It was during a basketball game where your friends had convinced you to wear face paint that had set your clear skin back a week and make a poster advertising your bias towards the team captain. He took notice of you somehow and after scoring the winning basket after going into double overtime he ran up to the bleachers and hooked his sweaty arms around your waist. The crowd practically melted, hooting and hollering as he spun you in a wide circle. You’d never actually had a conversation with him up until that point, yet when he set you down on your feet he’d set a finger on the tip of your nose and called you his girl. It was a few months into your relationship, after weeks of him being nothing short of a chivalrous gentleman that he sent you those words. He wasn’t blunt about it and they were mixed in with a few others as embellishment. If you hadn’t been on the lookout for it you would’ve missed it. 

_Baby can you send me something pretty? I’m lonely…_

Your snazzy new iPhone that looked like utter garbage compared to the newer generation that you have today had told you that it was much too late for anyone to be saying things like that so innocently. If you hadn’t been up with a book in your lap two things would’ve happened that night. Your mom would’ve told you to go to bed and you wouldn’t have been up to answer him. But your mom was always understanding about the things that you liked, even if she knew it was just a phase. Reading was a constant form of enjoyment and she would’ve let you stay home if you were too tired to wake up the next day. If she knew when you stopped reading compared to the time you turned your light off to sleep, she’d probably be disappointed in you. But for some reason, you had closed your book and opened your camera. It was the first time you ever sent a nude and it most certainly wouldn’t be the last–not by a long shot. It was also the first time you watched porn, though you wonder if watching a video of your boyfriend jerking himself off to a picture of your boobs was considered porn. Either way, you went on a sort of research binge the next night. Lying about your age and Googling things in incognito mode until you were well versed in the ways of pleasuring someone–and yourself–with photos alone. And even before you became a nude sending extraordinaire you’d followed the cardinal rule of never showing your face. 

Even in the remaining years of high school–that you somehow survived without sleeping with your boyfriend–you never showed your face. He thought you didn’t trust him, but you made up excuse after excuse to make up for the fact that there was a level of insecure distrust. He probably showed your faceless nudes to his friends to get a pat on the back for getting such a hot girlfriend, now that you think about it. You suppose it doesn’t matter now anyway. The two of you parted ways a few months after graduation. He was moving out of the country to study abroad for college and you had gotten accepted to a university in one city over. Ever the gentlemen, he took you on one last extravagant date and promised to always cherish your time together. He even gave you a ring that you can’t bear to part with, though you have a feeling the diamonds are actually glass and the silver is actually titanium. You had watched his plane take off and wondered exactly what you were going to do now that your high school sweetheart was gone. 

Turns out you make an amazing amateur porn star. It wasn’t what you set out to do–not at first, at least. You just had a lot of tasteful and aesthetically pleasing nudes just sitting in a folder on your phone with no one to send them to. While the app was still in its relative infancy you made a Twitter account. It wasn’t your real name nor an email address you use. It was simply there to dump your plethora of erotic photos onto the Internet for all to see. Surprisingly, the first people that had flocked to your posts and started following you were girls. You never looked past their profile pictures, so they really could’ve been old perverts lurking and waiting for someone exactly like you, young and careless, to spill their bodies to the world for their greedy eyes to take in. You couldn’t care less. 

That was the entire reason you even made a Twitter account. Now it sits dormant, not deactivated but untouched since a few years ago when you finally outgrew your high libido, or at least found a way to tame it. The videos of you touching yourself and pictures of your fully exposed body, sans your face, will forever remain visible until you can figure out the password to shut the account down. You’re not in any hurry, though. Even if anyone that knew you found the account, they’d have no way to tell that it was you. Honestly it could be any girl posting her body on social media. Who’d think to single you out? Especially after so long with the account being dormant. You try a new password–the barcode for your old library card–and Twitter asks if you’re a robot. You decide not to indulge that, which in and of itself, is little more than a bot. Instead you toss your phone aside to try and focus on the TV. Reruns of a show you watched in middle school are playing. That’s probably what got you in such a reminiscent mood. 

The knowledge that this teen drama has not aged well is slowly dawning on you when you hear the front door click open. Jeong Yeon enters with a huff, her rosy cheeks puffing adorably as she kicks off her shoes. It’s undoubtedly cold outside, so you had spent the better part of the morning straightening up around the apartment rather than tagging along on your girlfriend’s errand run. She probably made a pit stop or two since the sun has already begun to set into early evening as she tries to straighten her bangs after taking off the hat she had pulled over her ears. 

“Hi, baby,” She greets you with a smile, eyes curling sweetly as she looks you over. It’s a habit of hers to make sure nothing is out of place if she hasn’t seen you in a few hours, or minutes. You roll your eyes and bite your tongue to keep from taking a jab at her protective tendencies. You’ve seen her square up to foes much too strong for her if they even looked at you funny. It was really a sight to see. Watching your usually soft and dorky girlfriend turn into a tough bitch if anyone threatened your honor, as she once put it.

She’s in a jovial sort of mood today as she curls up next to you, pressing her freezing fingertips against your skin in search of warmth. 

“Hey, babe,” Jeong Yeon finally says after suffering through an episode of your crappy drama reruns. “Something funny happened today.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Na Yeon and I were hanging out at the dorm since all of the younger ones went off to watch that new movie that they’ve been talking about,” You hum in faint recognition of the subject, “So Na Yeon and I had the dorm to ourselves. I wanted to watch a movie, but Na Yeon had already seen it and didn’t feel like sitting through it again. She thought the better option was to sit around for two hours and watch porn, which is what we did, but it’s still a weird idea.” 

“So you were at the dorm,” she nods, “with Na Yeon,” another nod, “just watching porn?” 

“Yeah, it sounds weird, right? But it was just making fun of how terrible all the acting was. We ended up on a bunch of videos posted by a long username that I can’t pronounce. Hold on.” She deems the username an integral part of the story and fishes her phone out her back pocket to open up whatever porn site they ended up surfing through. It’s a name you recognize as one of the more prominent ones for amateur films made chiefly in Korea and Japan. Even worse, you recognize the username. Honestly, to anyone else it probably does just look like a jumble of useless letters, but it’s actually a code translated from numbers to their corresponding letter in the English alphabet. The only reason you know that is because of the nearly impossible coincidence that your girlfriend has stumbled onto your old account. The odds were astronomically low, yet Na Yeon has made it happen. Maybe it speaks to how well You match up to her preferences or maybe your reputation as a entry level porn star. Whatever the reason, you hope that Jeong Yeon didn’t notice that it was you. After all, she’s seen it all at this point. 

“I was honestly watching the variety show that Na Yeon muted but it was hard to ignore these videos. For one, Na Yeon hooked her phone up to the Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen, and she has the hottest moans ever.” She clicks play without waiting for you to prompt her. The sounds that fill the living room are no longer the laugh track that was a trend back in the day, but your own lewd moans and the slick sound of a dildo fucking you open. Oddly enough, you remember the day you filmed this. You’d just gotten the dildo after ordering it online and hoping none of your neighbors would think less of you after seeing a nondescript box sitting on your welcome mat. 

“You know,” Jeong Yeon piped up after a minute. There’s something different in her voice that makes you feel uneasy, like she knows something you don’t. “Something about this girl just seems really familiar.” You blink at her and pretend like your heart didn’t just take a tumble through your body and land on the floor. 

“At first, I thought I’d just seen the video before, but that wasn’t it.” She keeps talking like your feverish moans filtering through her phone speaker aren’t serving as background noise to this conversation. “It took me a second to realize she reminded me of you.” You laugh awkwardly in hopes of diffusing the tension. 

“Why?” Maybe you can deny her comparisons. 

“I’ll show you.” The ever-present smile that had previously been seen uplifting the corners of her mouth is suddenly curved into a mischievous smile and it doesn’t help you collect your anxieties about being found out in the slightest. Jeong Yeon seems oblivious to your reaction as she drags you into your bedroom. She tosses her phone onto the duvet, never hitting pause, and begins to undress you with sharp tugs at your clothes. You half-expect her to tear your shirt as she yanks it over your head. As soon as your left in only your underwear she pushes you hard so you land facedown on the bed. Jeong Yeon rolls you onto your back then places her phone on your lower stomach. 

“Don’t let it fall,” She warns you. Her voice is deeper than before. A sure sign that she’s in the mood to play. You go still, barely breathing in an attempt to keep the phone from slipping off onto the mattress. The sounds of you moaning barely register in your ears over the pounding of your heartbeat. Jeong Yeon doesn’t notice your internal battle and continues on with her devious plan. You gasp when the cold air suddenly touches your wet lips, then bite on your tongue to keep from making any more identifiable noises. You’re not sure how much longer the silence will last since Jeong Yeon is rubbing damning circles into your clit as a finger slides inside you. 

Your back arches in suppressed pleasure, but your quick to flatten yourself when you feel the phone begin to slip. Still, the only gasps of pleasure in the room are coming from the phone. Jeong Yeon is sure to get fed up with your silence soon enough. She lives off of how loud you are in bed, and is always quick to punish you if your quiet without her having gave the order to be. You can feel her patience wearing thin as she presses two more fingers inside you, curling them enticingly. A short burst of a moan slips between your lips, yet again. This time Jeong Yeon takes notice when you force it back down. She pulls away from you with a dark look in her eyes. 

“Are we playing games today, baby?” She asks, a hand coming up to caress your cheek. You shake your head, “Then why can’t I hear that pretty voice of yours?” The hand on your face suddenly jumps to your throat, squeezing to assert her dominance. You go limp under her hold and whimper as she tightens her grip a fraction. “Are we going to be good now?” 

“Yes,” You say with what little air can make it to your lungs. Jeong Yeon smirks down at you as she pulls her hand away. 

“That’s my good girl. Wait here, I’ll be right back.” She disappears into the closet and you can only imagine what toy she has gone off to retrieve. Your eyes focus on the ceiling to take your focus off your own voice as you come hard on your first dildo. The video cuts off after a moment of heavy breathing and you sigh in relief, only for it to turn into a groan of unhappiness when the autoplay switches to the next video. You risk a peek down to see what video it is only to regret it. The background of the video is much more prominent than the last, and very obviously the old apartment you lived in before you moved in with Jeong Yeon. She’s only been there a few times but it’s hard to hope for her not to notice the very obvious personal touches when she so easily identified your voice. You’re too busy wallowing in self-pity to hear Jeong Yeon return. 

Her hands tug you further up the bed until you’re head is resting against the mountain of pillows. She pushes your legs open then presses the tip of a toy against your dripping entrance. For a moment, you’re too nervous to look at her, but curiosity wins out in the end. You glance up to see Jeong Yeon hovering over you like a personification of sin as she presses the head of a double ended dildo inside you. You let out a moan too close to the video currently playing as it bottoms out inside you. 

“Much better,” Jeong Yeon smirks as she seats herself over the other side of the toy. A few experimental thrusts are all it takes for her to find the right rhythm to have you moaning her name each time the toy presses further inside you. Jeong Yeon’s hair is just barely long enough to shroud her smirking face in enough shadow to make her next words sound almost threatening. 

“See? I told you there was something that reminded me of you. The two of you sound identical.” Her hand trails up your chest, taking little interest in your bra as her fingers lock around your throat. The pressure immediately has your pleasure skyrocketing as the lack of air makes everything a thousand times more intense. The near scream that whistles through your throat makes Jeong Yeon laugh breathlessly. 

“You scream like a porn star,” She quips. Somehow she still has the wherewithal to look smug about her joke as she fucks you. You moan feebly as she releases your throat only to have your breath still again when her thumb begins rubbing damning circles into your clit. The heat in your stomach threatens to shatter your very existence as Jeong Yeon pushes you closer and closer to the edge. You grab her wrist to ground yourself as one of the hardest orgasm you’ve ever felt tears through you. Your back arches high off the bed as you press your hips closer to Jeong Yeon’s. She grins as you pant weakly, trying to regain your bearings. 

It doesn’t last long, of course, because less than a minute later she’s tugging the toy out of you. You whine as the drag against your over sensitive walls sparks a new flame inside you. Jeong Yeon ignores your small protest and flops onto her back beside you. For a moment, you think she’s done with you. But then you feel a hand in your hair, flipping you over until your head is caged between her thighs. She gives your hair a meaningful pull before dropping it to pause the video. With that silent order you eagerly press forward to lick a thick stripe over Jeong Yeon’s wet pussy. She pets your hair affectionately, using the grip on your head to drag you against her just the way she wants. 

You go limp, allowing her to grind her hips against your face, pressing harder whenever she coos an encouragement at you. You feel her hips start to stutter in a way that can only mean she’s nearing her end. The hand in your hair has fallen loose as she loses focus. Her fingers comb shakily through your hair as she calls your name. Your eyes flick upwards with a hesitant blush streaking across your cheeks. Instead of being met with Jeong Yeon’s beautiful face as she comes hard on your tongue, you’re met with the lens of a camera. You grow shy under the sudden spotlight, but Jeong Yeon is quick to reprimand you. 

“None of that, baby girl,” Her hand still in your hair tightens sharply, “I want to see you desperate to make me come. Will you be a good girl for me?” Your heart seizes in your chest at the mere thought of disappointing Jeong Yeon. And just as quickly as you lost courage, it returns tenfold. She lets out a grateful sigh as you suck her clit between your lips. Within seconds her thighs are clamping around your head, holding you in place as she tumbles over the edge. 

“That’s my girl,” She pants proudly as you pull away. There’s no way you don’t look like a sparkling mess with sweat and her arousal shimmering on your face. You lick your lips experimentally, tasting her addictive sweet and salty tang. Jeong Yeon rolls her eyes at your display then tosses her phone onto the nightstand. The camera app is still open, but she’s stopped recording you. 

“How’d you know that was me?” You ask with only a slight hint of embarrassment. Jeong Yeon stretches out across the bed like a cat. Her chest rumbles with a satisfied groan as she settles into the ruined sheets. 

“You–every part of you–is mine. If I couldn’t tell it was you I wouldn’t be a very good owner, now would I?” She hums. You shrug agreeably. No one would even suspect that Jeong Yeon was so possessive, _so intense_. Yet you know better. It was pure luck that got you out of a punishment for breaking your most important rule of not hiding things from her. Technically, it was before you met her, so she can’t truly hold it against you. But, then, Jeong Yeon’s never been one to take things like that into account. You belong to her and she to you. Feeling sated for the moment, you curl up next to her. Your bodies pressing against each other comfortingly. 

“I have a proposition for you, baby,” Jeong Yeon says after a few moments of thoughtfully stroking your hair. The calm that had settled over the room immediately evaporates. 

“What’s that?” There’s only a hint of hesitance in your voice. 

“I’ll let you off without a punishment, but only if you let me film you whenever I want.” There’s a wicked smirk on her face as she waits for you to give her the answer you both know is coming. 

“Yes, ma’am.”


End file.
